


Red Stained Sunset

by theumbrellastealer



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But I did my best, Eventual consent but I don't plan for a too happy story, I said graphic depictions but we'll see how it goes, I'm not gonna rip off disney and I'm no good at song writing, Inspired by disney's rapunzel, M/M, Mentions of Death, Technically Kura is 17 so that makes him underage, but no actual singing, but still an AU, dub con, i'll add tags as i go, just go with it, non con, not everything lines up, that could change at a moments notice
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-05-31 16:12:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19429516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theumbrellastealer/pseuds/theumbrellastealer
Summary: Inspired by Disney's RapunzelIn this world, Blonds are among a rare breed, blessed by the sun with the power to heal upon singing or humming a special songAs long as the victim is touching the singer's glowing hairKurapika did his best to hide his identity since his clan's slaughter, but when a clown betrays him just as he is about to succeed in his revenge, he is left helpless and at the nonexistent mercy of the Phantom Troupe as one of the invaluable pure relics on the black market





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Instead of working on my WIP's, I decided to do this instead.  
> I started writing it a few weeks ago because I started watching the Tangled Adventures of Rapunzel  
> It's really good, if anyone wants to discuss it further lemme know  
> Read at your own expense because it's not rapunzel it's just INSPIRED by rapunzel  
> TW: mentions of blood, maybe gore if you squint

Blond hair is a rare breed.

Because it contained an incredible power

When in contact with injury or disease, acute or fatal, a simple flu or a lost cause, the hair is capable of healing them back to full health when a song is hummed.

Legend has it that those who are blond are children of the sun, who bestowed them their power.

Unfortunately, as bright as these children shine, humanity remains cruel and unforgiving.

For there are children of the sun sold on the black market for insurmountable amounts of money for their healing properties.

One would think that their hair can just be cut to be sold, and that would be it. However, the hair that is lopped off turns brown then into dust, having no healing properties whatsoever. Therefore, healing must come from the source: a living person.

While sparse among the black market, there is a tribe of free blond-haired people, secluded in a forest of the Province of Lukso.

They keep themselves isolated, knowing if they were found, that would be the end of their civilization.

The Kurta Clan.

Not only did they have blond healing hair, but they also retained the beautiful scarlet eyes. An absolute rare breed indeed.

Among these children of the sun are two babies who hide a book of the outside, dreaming of going beyond this forest and into the real world, naïve to their hereditary traits and their significance. How could genetics be important when there is so much more to the land to be discovered, the babies wondered.

During the night, the boys would sneak away and travel through the forest, an easy task by their birthright of being raised within the leaves, and look down at a town. Their favorite moments were when the people were celebrating something. The babies were familiar with parties and celebrations, however the secluded forests never compare to the grandeur that is a backroad village.

One of these nights, the boys have the luck in being spotted, though they were too inexperienced to realize they were being watched.

A small, black haired man accompanied by a larger man with light brown hair took note of the two blond boys hiding quite well for inexperienced children in the trees. Any normal human would be incapable of spotting them. But these were not normal people.

The Phantom Troupe, they called themselves, had been travelling through, enjoying the celebration before they moved on to scour for a worthy heist.

Little did they realize, they would find extraordinary specimens that can be stolen and sold.

One night, one of the blond boys ventured out alone. His smaller, more frail cousin had fallen ill and could not sneak out, thus the young boy would be out in the woods alone. This was not unusual but he felt lonely without his cousin by his side.

Thankfully, the fates had favored this adventurous boy, for that very same night that he was out alone, blood rained on the Kurta Clan.

A massacre ensued. Blonds were far too valuable to just kill off completely, however these blonds were strong. While it would have been a shame to kill them, the culprits of the massacre, the Phantom Troupe, would extract the blood red eyes of the decease while carting away remaining women and children.

While a hassle to the Troupe, having so many blonds in one area is unheard of. Along with their scarlet eyes, they are the world’s finest treasures, according to the leader of the Troupe: Chrollo Lucifer.

Had these been ordinary blonds, he may have taken a few and spared the rest. But no. Their eyes, those scarlet eyes bewitched him.

It was his right as a thief to steal what he sees as beautiful and priceless, so he did what he did best.

Of the one hundred twenty eight children of the sun that lived, only fifteen were left to survive while the rest of the clan were left for the crows who would have no eyes to peck at. One of these victims, was the little sick boy who didn’t even realize there was danger, too fatigued to register death lingering.

One could call it merciful.

For the boy who returns to his plundered village unaware of his clansmen’s fate, he would call it devastation.

By then, the sinners would be long gone, and the stench of blood causing a retch of vomit to project out of the young boy followed by a wail of agony. Tears and anguish poured down his face, bodies were piled unceremoniously about, their eyes missing and hair turning to dust.

The desperate boy clung to these bodies, singing over and over until his voice was hoarse, vainly trying to revive the dead.

But the fates have one absolute rule.

The dead stay dead.

Even the gift from the sun in which these deceased children were bestowed cannot reverse time that no longer exists.

The boy spent weeks grieving, digging graves for one hundred thirteen bodies. He trained his mind and body, manifesting an evil rage. All consuming, the boy made a promise to the piece of paper left behind by the culprits.

They will pay.

Kurapika Kurta made a vow that no matter the price, or the sacrifice, the Spider will come to an end.

He educated himself, learned of his heritage and the importance of blond hair. Dying it did not work…for some reason…so he had to settle for a wig and contacts to protect his identity as both a blond and a Kurta.

* * *

His journey started with a Hunter’s license, earning him new, albeit reluctant, friends along the way. He told none of them of his blond hair, just his eyes. He couldn’t risk anyone’s lives for his with that knowledge.

He went a long time with this secret. Up until he had to share the secrets of his Nen.

He was lucky to have the understanding and accepting friends that he did.

But the end to his nightmare would not remain in sight.

Managing to crush one spider, isolate another, and chaining the head to his side, everything was falling into place for the Kurta.

But he made one fatal mistake.

Hisoka.

The stupid clown learned something that he had been so good at hiding for over three years.

The man was not interested in him, per se, but he knew that the head spider would be.

The damn clown figured out his plans of dissolving the spider, after all, he couldn’t fight the head if he was dead or incapacitated in any way.

He had just finished yelling at the woman named Pakunoda when he felt sudden bloodlust he recognized instantly. Mistaking it for being directed at the spider, the Kuruta ignored him and prepared to bind their hearts when his hair was ripped off his head.

Or at least his wig.

His reaction was a cry of pain and the loosening of his chains.

The next moment he was shocked by the two fingers to his eyes.

He lost his contacts and he felt a breeze flow through his hair. He barely had the bearings to hang onto the chains when he was hit in the head.

And he was out.


	2. Chapter 1: Exposed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurapika wakes up to thieves. He strives to stay in control

When he awoke, it was hours later, as the sun was high in the sky and he was the one who was chained up.

He was exposed.

For three years, he learned of the different rumors involving blond haired folk, and when he entered into the underworld, he learned the fate of the majority of the blonds, such as his dwindling fifteen brethren.

His plans for avenging his dead clansmen and saving the others has been destroyed.

He felt cold and nauseous. Everything was becoming surreal. Dreamlike.

Like he was in and out of his body at the same time with the realization that he was back to being helpless.

It was not a happy thought.

He took in his surroundings and assessed his bindings.

Chains. Of course.

He broke through those easily and flexed his aura. It was weak, but still there. He supposed they gave him something after they knocked him out that affected his Nen.

With that in mind, he had to rely primarily on his instincts and physical ability to get out of here.

If he did.

He tried not to linger on that very real possibility.

Instead he took in the height of the sole window from the ground, the stability of the wall, and the door that emanated hushed voices. He traipsed slowly and quietly pressed his ear against the door to listen to the conversation, although with how difficult it was, he supposed they were far away enough to not be heard but close enough to hear him.

He didn’t doubt that they felt him awaken. He’s not stupid enough to think they didn’t notice a change in his aura’s position. Using Zetsu would be stupid too. They would no doubt rush to kill him and he needed whatever amount of Nen for his escape.

So instead he returned to his position and sat.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

He did some stretching and exercises.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

The sun was going down and the voices ceased long ago.

He still waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

He could leave out the window.

But he’s still not stupid. They were waiting.

He wasn’t giving in.

Either they come for him or he stays in here.

He’s in control.

For now.

* * *

The moon was high when they relented.

The door opened with no knock.

Kurapika was sitting on the floor with his back against the wall when it happened. He looked up seeing a man without eyebrows and a scowl on his face standing in the doorway, gripping the door hard enough to pop a vein on his hand.

“Oi, chain bastard. What’s the hold up?”

He kept quiet. He’s in control.

“Get up. Boss wants to see you.”

He remained stagnant, his eyes burning with a scarlet and hatred in which the devil himself would envy.

The man’s face remained the same. No, there’s the glint of anger.

“Don’t be a stubborn bastard. I’m not dragging your ass out of this room. Get up on your own two feet.”

“Phinks," a familiar wicked voice called out, "just drag him. If he has no pride in himself to come on his own, then he’s just as pathetic as his clan was.”

He wouldn’t take the bait. He bit his tongue and clenched his fists, letting his nails cut into his palms.

He listened to the grumbling as the man named Phinks fisted his hair and literally dragged his relenting body out instead.

He felt no satisfaction.

He was thrown onto a rug, earning burns that he didn’t feel. He pushed himself onto his hands and knees then onto his bottom, refusing to look up.

“How much is a Kurta on the market nowadays, Shal?”

Ah, so they _are_ going to sell him. Apparently death is too merciful for him.

He supposes he would be okay with this if the spider were dissipated.

Maybe.

“The price has been going up as some have died within the past few months. And a brand new Kurta that hasn’t been touched by anyone would drive the price up even further.”

He anger made its presence known through his scarlet eyes, those that he kept downcast.

So some are dead. He didn't keep up with his brethren's fates very closely. Not until their perpetrators were taken care of. He would have become too invested in their rescue.

But maybe he made a mistake by putting it off.

Regret made itself known through a lump in his throat at that thought.

“I see," the leader responded thoughtfully. He stood up from his perch and made his way down until he stood only a few feet away from Kurapika. "We could make a pretty penny after we explore this relic. Bonolenov, you were rather taken before we sold them off, correct?”

The bandaged man nodded, giving no other emotion away. “We had a Kurta marry into my tribe. Their hair is absolutely exquisite whenever they sing, regardless of the special healing song.”

“That’s right, blond hair has healing properties."

What was he doing? the Kurta thought. Stating the obvious? 

Reminding him of his stupid worth as an object?

It made him nauseous.

Despicable.

"But if I recall," he continued, not hearing the storm within the blond's heart, "none of them would sing for us. If it wasn’t for your allegations, Bono, there would be extra eyes on the market.”

Don’t take the bait, don’t take the bait.

He learned from Pakunoda’s reaction to his outburst that they wouldn’t just say anything to his anger. Staying silent was his only tool for now.

“I never got to see it for myself, even with the Kurta’s on the market. Why don’t you sing for us Kurapika, and I’ll make sure you go to a nice owner after this.”

.....Does he actually think.... that he'll let his voice be heard by murderers? Let alone the Spider?

He saw red and heard a ringing. Muscles contracted and he reached for that pale, flawless neck.

It turned into blood. He wasn’t sure if it was his or not. Probably since he was laying on the ground with the copper stench infiltrating his nostrils.

“You were doing so well, comrade. So prideful.” He was rolled over onto his back.

A figure crouched over him. He lifted himself up back onto his knees and a felt the terrible eyes burn into the top of his head. 

Did it look like he was submitting?

Yes.

But the leader knew he wasn't.

He wouldn't be looking at him like that if he didn't.

"I don't keep my winnings very long. Although I'm sure you know this, considering you must have looked into our habits in order to prepare in attacking us. Feitan, you have a rather good memory. What's the longest I've _personally_ kept something?"

He didn't know who Feitan was, but a small, black haired man perked up at the sound of his name. "It was an old collection of antique books from old man Oskar Müller, aka mob boss Herr Okie in the Hokuto Province. You spent a week going through all of them and then the rest of the month rereading them with me and Machi. So about three weeks total."

"Wow, it feels longer sometimes...." The spider head genuinely sounded surprised.

A hand seized his chin and lifted his gaze up to meet those icy, laughing eyes.

He glared with all his might and bared his teeth.

"Alright sunshine, let's see how long you take before you bore the hell out of me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment?
> 
> Come yell at me on Twitter   
> Keirisenpai  
> (I don't know how to hyperlink...sorry)  
> I don't have many other HxH content to follow on there. Either I'm not looking hard enough or it's really hard to find...

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell at me on Twitter (KeiriSenpai)  
> I know I'm nothing special but I do wanna get more involved in the writing community  
> Especially with KuroKura


End file.
